


resting, softly

by eksterzang



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Body Image, Body Positivity, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, Love Confessions, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Starvation, Weight Gain, i guess?, on GOD we're gonna get some food in geralt. he deserves to thrive, why is that not a tag?? im making it a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eksterzang/pseuds/eksterzang
Summary: His stomach is rumbling. That’s all it seems to be capable of these last few months. Hunts are few and far between, and the people barely ever have the coin to pay him.He’s almost delirious with it when Jaskier finds him.Jaskier helps Geralt regain a healthy weight after he finds him malnourished. Self-indulgent nonsense.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 24
Kudos: 384
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	resting, softly

**Author's Note:**

> This fic brings up weight (gain). If this is something that triggers you please don't hesitate to close the tab. I took a lot of inspiration from my own issues regarding the topic, and there is a happy ending :) They're all supposed to be good consequences, but I completely understand if it's not your cup of tea. Take care!

His stomach is rumbling. That’s all it seems to be capable of these last few months. Hunts are few and far between, and the people barely ever have the coin to pay him. Luckily, he can stay in a room tonight. With the incoming cold, it would’ve taken even more energy to stay warm. Geralt looks down at his unclothed chest, his stomach almost seems to be bloating with hunger. That hadn’t happened before. Funny how that works, he thinks before he easily slips into sleep.

It’s like a dance. Going out to hunt expends energy, in order to gain more of it later. He’s like a panther, conserving as much energy as possible, until there is no other option but to go out to hunt. Either food or monsters, both would lead him to some salvation.

The villagers paid well, except Roach needed the food more than he did. His poor girl was almost starving. And what is a witcher without his trusty friend? He needed her to travel around. He could wait. Besides, the medicine he got would ensure that the beast’s venom wouldn’t take him down before the hunger did. Or the cold. It was so cold, why couldn’t he get warm?

He’s almost delirious with it when Jaskier finds him.

He’s trying to take the reins from Geralt, which he’s not allowed to do, you know that right, Jaskier? Roach is his and even though she loves him, she won’t like it. And does Jaskier know that Roach loves him? Maybe he shouldn’t tell him because he will be insufferable about it. And he’s so glad to see his friend, but he can’t even see Jaskier’s bright blue eyes anymore. Is he still there? Then darkness takes him and all he can think is _finally._

-

Geralt wakes up in a bed. He hasn’t been in one for ages. He’s propped up on some cushions and there is a blanket spread over his lap.

The softness is almost too much, until Jaskier is there, tilting some broth from the bowl in his hand into Geralt’s mouth. His other hand finds its way into Geralt’s hair, keeping his head steady. He greedily drinks until Jaskier pulls it away.

“There we go,” he murmurs, “stupid witcher, not taking care of yourself.” Geralt thinks that he wasn’t supposed to hear that last part. It was just so hard, keeping track of Jaskier when he was so tired. But then Jaskier is there again, gently moving him down the bed so he could lie down, finally. And he climbs in next to him, letting Geralt rest his head on his shoulder.

-

The next time Geralt wakes up, he’s groggy but feeling better. Jaskier is still there, his fingers dancing around protruding ribs.

“You finally awake?” Jaskier asks.

“Hmm.”

Then a grin spreads over the bard’s face. He tries to smother it down, but the corners of his mouth rise and rise, until his eyes crinkle with it as well.

“So Roach loves me, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Jaskier pats his chest once more before getting up and padding over to where he left his bag. He procures his coin pouch from there and leaves the room. As he’s “just getting some food, darling!”

Geralt shifts on the bed, trying to move so he can leave as soon as possible. He’s just managed to plant his feet onto the floor when Jaskier comes back in, carrying a tray -a large tray- full of food.

“What are you doing?!” Comes his outraged cry.

“Leaving.”

“Uuh no you’re not.” Jaskier then puts down the tray on a table, makes his way over to the bed, and forcefully tucks Geralt in again.

“You, my friend, are going to eat breakfast until you’re full with it,” he huffs, “I never want to see you so emaciated again.”

So Geralt works the bread into his mouth, and the egg, and the meat, until Jaskier looks satisfied.

-

Travelling together again is good. It's just how it always was… except also not. Jaskier keeps singing, and strumming, and playing and composing. He's a nuisance. Petting Roach, patting Geralt, and for some reason he's buying more food than usual. Insisting Geralt eat more. Business must be better, then.

And when they find their way to their shared room, with Geralt in the bathtub and Jaskier's fingers in his hair, he's the loveliest distraction from the stresses of the Path.

His scent has changed slightly, though. While normally, he'd just be tired from the performance, he seems more run down. It was a good thing he ordered more sustenance, Geralt mused, if he planned on continuing working so hard.

-

It's a good thing Jaskier's been saving up some extra coin. He was originally planning on splurging on a new outfit, but after seeing the state he found Geralt in, he just _had_ to do something about it.

It doesn't cost much extra to order more food, perhaps a song or two, or three. At least the exhaustion quickly puts him to sleep when he's finally done.

Seeing Geralt eat some more was all worth it, though. Jaskier knows what healthy bodies are supposed to look like. His father used to say that he wasn't cut out for studies, always distracted by what was going on outside, but what he didn't know was that Jaskier had found other subjects of study.

Being a Viscount's son meant being exposed to his fair share of warriors. Big, burly men who could easily lift the teenager with one hand. Whether they were knights, competitors, or perhaps even bandits. The strongest ones were always given away by their size. It was all too easy to take a little peek outside when they were training, washing off, or being brought in. They were so large, muscled, fast, with thick layers of fat protecting their organs.

Geralt might have been as fast, as strong, as enduring, probably even more so, but he always looked so sickly. Reaching bigger heights when taking his vile potions. As if the warriors Jaskier was so familiar with couldn't do the same on fisstech.

Okay maybe not, but that did bring up the question _could Geralt be even better if he were healthier?_

So it wasn't an experiment, not really. Jaskier was just so worried about his friend, delirious from starvation, something had to change. And if he could be more successful on his hunts along the way, it would just be an added bonus to him feeling better.

So Jaskier orders some more food, and the indentations between Geralt's ribs slowly disappear over the weeks. And when Jaskier glides his fingers over them at night, he's glad it doesn't feel like a harpsichord anymore.

His face fills out as well. Where there were first only sunken cheeks, the bard now has to control himself not to caress -or even worse, pinch- the budding rosy flesh.

It’s a comfort when he has to bandage Geralt up again and again, more certain that his undoubtedly improved immune system would be more capable of fighting off any infection. And if he lets his hand wander just the slightest bit, it’s just some affection between friends right.

-

Travelling with Jaskier always makes Geralt feel better, but this time it seems to be more than emotional. It’s physical as well.

Maybe it’s because Jaskier has seemed to enjoy taking care of Geralt more than usual, or it’s all the food that the bard for some reason demands Geralt eat. His wandering -more wandering than usual- hands had not escaped Geralt’s attention. And it was… nice, to be caressed so.

Jaskier might be onto something with the food thing. It’s just that Geralt was so used to always dealing with less. Less coin, less food, less sleep, less contact. With Jaskier forcefully inserting himself into Geralt’s life, as usual, it was a shock that Jaskier made sure wasn’t about to wear off soon.

-

It’s weeks later when Geralt notices that the individual muscles in his abdomen aren’t visible anymore, his stomach isn’t concave when lying down. Instead, a healthy layer of fat had taken its place.

No time to muse on that, though. Wraiths were seen in the area and he thus had a contract to fulfill. He’d told Jaskier to stay behind. Small chance that he would, though. However… this town seemed on the richer side, perhaps he could convince him to take this opportunity to extract some extra coin.

-

Once at the cemetery, he takes Blizzard. Boosting his reflexes would be a big help against their teleporting powers. And it does help, he’s so much faster. So fast, in fact, that the fight is over before Blizzard has been able to run its course.

The comedown is terrible. His senses attuned to everything happening around him, making him jittery, jump at any and every noise or movement. It’s hell, coming back to the inn, the unruly patrons wrecking his nerves.

He sees Jaskier collecting the coins on the ground from the corner of his eye. Jaskier must have noticed how keyed up Geralt was, as he quickly excuses himself from his adoring crowd to follow Geralt up the stairs to their room.

Geralt can’t describe the relief he feels when planting onto the bed.

“Bad hunt?” Jaskier asks.

“Potion,” comes Geralt’s muffled reply. “‘s Too much”

Jaskier tuts at that, moving towards Geralt to remove his boots at least. He doesn’t stop there, though. He gently sits Geralt up straight and removes all of his armor for him. They’ve done this before, but only when Geralt was in a worse state. As he looks up at Jaskier, who at this point is removing his own doublet as well, he can’t help the shiver that rolls down his spine, nor the pathetic whine that forces its way out of his mouth.

Jaskier comes to the bedside again, laying Geralt down while tremors trek over him, gathering him in his arms and smoothing his hands down his back. Geralt greedily inhales the scent he finds at the base of Jaskier’s throat while he sprawls over the bard, glad to be smelling contentment, maybe a bit of worry, instead of the earlier tiredness. He distantly thinks that it used to feel a lot more bony to lie close to Jaskier before he succumbs to his soothing hold. It almost feels like something soft and warm is pressed to his forehead, but he’s too out of it to give it much thought.

-

The next days he feels better, actually. His body had taken less damage and he has more energy left, more than enough to hunt for a fat rabbit or two, which he then proceeds to do.

Jaskier’s beaming smile when he returns with his catch is almost reward enough.

-

Contracts are plentiful for once. The next town they arrive at has a contract out for a griffin. A royal one, if Geralt is getting accurate accounts. There were barely any ingredients to make Swallow, maybe enough for one portion. He’d have to be extra careful.

The fight with the griffin is brutal. She’s fast, had been feasting on plenty of villagers. But Geralt was fast too, more so than normal, and all Jaskier can see from his vantage point are blurs of brown and black. So much for coming along to see the action.

Afterwards, Geralt notices that he never even touched Swallow.

He has some injuries, though. A bit worse for wear, but none of the more serious slashes he might have been victim to if he’d encountered the beast a few months ago.

Jaskier takes care of them, almost _dotes_ on him as he wraps Geralt’s injured arm with steady hands. He then presses a kiss on the bandage, looking up for Geralt’s reaction. Geralt himself can only lean forward. Jaskier moves his lips up his arm, pressing a kiss in the hollow of his elbow, on his upper arm, his shoulder, to the juncture of his neck, up to his forehead.

“Jaskier…” Geralt mumbles.

He shushes him.

“Just, just let me do this. Let me take care of you.”

And then he feels that same warm pressure against his forehead again and _oh. that’s where it came from_ and Jaskier’s lips drag down to his nose to leave a kiss there. Jaskier moves his head so his own nose bumps into Geralt’s and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. And then finally _finally_ he presses a kiss to his mouth.

“But why?” Geralt only just manages to ask.

“Because I love you, you dolt,” Jaskier whispers into his neck, before moving his lips to Geralt’s once again.

And it’s everything Geralt’s wished for and more. It’s all too easy to fall into Jaskier, kissing where Jaskier shows him to. Jaskier making his way down Geralt’s chest in turn, over the swell of his belly and further down, where he places his hands and kneads the new soft flesh of his thighs, before moving his mouth to a more interesting place.

-

Things don’t change much, following that night. Jaskier still sings and composes and strums on the road. And they still curl up together at night, and Jaskier still gets him more food than he used to months ago, and maybe this is the new usual way they’re eating.

It’s for the better. Geralt has more energy. He heals faster, needs fewer potions. It also doesn’t hurt that Jaskier seems to enjoy cuddling up even more now, burying his face in his softer chest.

And Jaskier still takes care of him when he’s hurt, but Geralt knows that it’s from a place of love. Because that’s what they are now, lovers.

The only noticeable change is when Geralt comes back from a hunt, Jaskier takes his face into his hands, sweetly, and kisses him as he leans into it.

-

Jaskier never thought that seeing his lover so healthy could be so healing for the soul. It’s so comfortable to rest his head on Geralt now, after a long day. The thick expanse of skin, grabbing his plush body at night.

Geralt had always been a force of nature, but even more now that he didn’t constantly have to ration his food. He had always been able to withstand a lot, but now, just before the first snows of winter, he still hadn’t shivered. Seems like his body was better equipped to regulate his temperature now.

They’re going to Kaer Morhen this winter. It will be Jaskier’s first time there. He can only hope the other witchers have been treating themselves better than Geralt has all those years.

-

They’re in the keep, lounging on Geralt’s bed. The day is breaking, and Geralt slips out to start a blazing fire, at which Jaskier’s hands follow his retreating form. He’s grumbling in his sleep. They don’t need the fire, though, but it’s nice. Lambert was on wood duty anyways, he could gather extra.

As Geralt slips back into bed, Jaskier somehow manages to cuddle up to him even further than he was before, burrowing into the warm cocoon of his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this and then immediately posted. if it's bad it's because of that and definitely not because im not that good of a writer. Might attempt to turn this into something a bit better one day. I also really love alliterations and they somehow ALWAYS manage to find their way into my work, even without my intent.
> 
> was supposed to be working on another fic (and uuuuhh.... uni work mayhaps), but my brain latched on when i had no inspiration so I guess we're doing this (or was the inspiration found in this fic?? truly a mystery for the ages)
> 
> I was kind of tempted to write a nsfw version of this, but 1) ive never written smut before so i would feel really awkward about it, and 2) i really don't like the sexualisation of being thicker. Like... the whole fat positivity movement is SO inundated with the idea that people need to be -ahum- fuckable in order to have worth and that's not the angle im aiming at, and im afraid that i would be reproducing this dynamic if i were to write about that.  
> If, however, that's something you'd like to read, please let me know in the comments or on tumblr, and I'll do my best not to make it weird.
> 
> if you enjoyed this, please don't hesitate to leave some kudos or a comment, they really make my day!


End file.
